


On His Own Terms

by Heartsandshamrocks



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Blindfolds, Divorcing!John, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time Together, Fluff and Humor, Jumper Fetish, Kink Negotiation, Kittens, Light BDSM, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Season/Series 03 Fix-It, Practicing!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heartsandshamrocks/pseuds/Heartsandshamrocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never could predict how Sherlock Holmes was going to react, John thought, but so far things seemed to be going rather well. Especially considering he’d just offered to shag his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On His Own Terms

**Author's Note:**

> My first story, I'm nervous about posting so be nice!

You never could predict how Sherlock Holmes was going to react, John thought, but so far things seemed to be going rather well. Especially considering he’d just offered to shag his best friend.

He’d anticipated stony silence, a hasty retreat or a plain disgusted “NO” in response to his proposition. Instead, a robe-clad Sherlock relaxed on the sofa, drumming his fingers on a cushion and humming his favorite concerto.

“Well?” John asked, pushing past the tightness in his throat. He smiled, drawing on the charm that always worked when he was on the pull. “Me and Mary, we’re finished. We’re working on an arrangement for sharing custody of Lizzie. I’m staying at a hotel but I can move back, if you’ll have me.” He paused and sat on the sofa’s edge, his thigh brushing Sherlock’s calf. “And I want you…to have me.” He ran a hand through his fresh-cut hair and looked up, trying to catch the other man’s eyes.

“Right. That’s…interesting.” Sherlock’s leg beside his tensed and drew back as he sat up, and swung his bare feet to the floor.

John rubbed his head, swearing to himself. _Christ,_ even his toes are pretty. One more kink to add to the growing list.

“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary at the morgue today?” Sherlock asked as he jumped up and began to pace.

“Oh uh.” Thrown by the change of subject, John stuttered and regrouped. “Lestrade was thrilled you solved the case so fast, and Molly’s much less with the slapping now that she and Tom are back together, and yeah, I think it went good. Brilliant, yeah. Did I miss something? As usual?”

Sherlock’s head whipped toward him, his eyes narrowed. “Hmm. No. You didn’t miss something. Yes, they’re back together, having ‘quite a lot of sex,’ one imagines. Why do you want to have sex with me?” he demanded.

John laughed, and the other man flushed. “Sorry, I just missed you being an arse like clockwork. I care about you and I enjoy sex and I was hoping you might want to…” He waved a hand toward the bedroom. “You know. Cut through the nonsense.”

The conversation between Sherlock and Mycroft at the palace popped into John’s mind. “Do you have a problem with sex? Not want to? Because I can-“

“No it’s fine,” Sherlock interrupted. “And you’re transparent, glancing at our Buckingham ashtray. My brother is an idiot. It’s all fine. I don’t have a problem with sex, just a…minimum of experience.” He stood up and ambled over to the mirror to study himself. His cool eyes were unreadable, and John felt his confidence draining away.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, without looking away from the mirror.

“Really?!” John replied, resisting the urge to ask Sherlock if he was high.

“On my terms. I have specific requirements and as you’re my friend, I expect you to abide by them.”

His _friend._ Hmm, John thought. Well, this was a start. Whatever issues Sherlock had, they could work through them. They would finally be together! “Right, sure, no problem,” he grinned.

“Fine. I need about an hour to get prepared."

 

* * *

 

“Why don’t we start at the beginning? I’ve been dying to kiss you for years.”

John was feeling somewhat discouraged after he noticed Sherlock’s eyes on the clock when their lips were pressed together, but he reminded himself of who he was kissing.

“Tell me if something isn’t working, alright?”

“I certainly will,” Sherlock said brightly, taking off his pants.

The kissing experiment was a bit of a disaster so John was surprised to find Sherlock quickly turning off the lights and steering him toward the bed.

“I’m not new at sex,” Sherlock murmured, “Just rather in sore need of practice. And I have certain needs.”

“Yeah you mentioned that,” John replied, his voice husky. He shed his clothes as well and was leaning toward the bed when he felt something soft brush against his chest. “I can take orders very well. Yes, sir.”

“Wear this,” Sherlock ordered him.

“Is this a jumper?” John wondered in the dark, feeling the fabric. He laughed, slipping his arms into the sleeves. Sherlock straightened the waist of the garment on him, and smiled.

“Shhhh. No talking either. My rules. Get on the bed, on your hand and knees.”

John nodded, feeling his cock grow harder. He fumbled in the dark getting on the bed, but found his way onto the sheets, and spread his knees. He ran his palm over his belly, covered by the top. The soft fabric of the jumper he wore hinted it was expensive but the dark hid the details of it. Who knew Sherlock had such a soft spot for the jumpers he’d been wearing all those years!

Sherlock’s deep voice purred in his ear, commanding him. “You agreed to be blind-folded, totally deprived if I wish. Nod yes to confirm you’re still agreeable.”

John nodded quickly, not able to hide his grin. Sherlock was a natural dom; no wonder he and Irene Adler had been at war!

Instead of the traditional gag he assumed Sherlock would use, John felt a dark sack slip over his head. A hole around the mouth area left him plenty of room to breathe so he didn’t feel as panicky as he might’ve. John sank into his submissive pose as Sherlock settled the sack’s hem around his neck with a snap to keep it snug. He had used that hour of preparation well, John saw.

“Your breathing is comfortable?”

John nodded. His cock was unbearably heavy now. He thought he’d be the one in control of their first time, but Sherlock was taking him over completely. God help him, he loved it.

He heard Sherlock move around the room, and then felt the shifting of the mattress with the other man’s weight. Butterflies filled John’s belly. The large hand cupping his arse made the feeling grow. God, Sherlock was really going right for it, wasn’t he? He could safe-word out if he really objected, he knew. Still it was surprising to feel the slick of warming lubricant sliding between his cheeks.

“Fuck,” John muttered. Sherlock shushed him before continuing off with the process, his long fingers sliding against John’s hole, massaging until John was wiggling for more. Encouraged, Sherlock’s fingertip slipped in easily, stretching the tender muscle until the rest of the finger worked its way in.

John rode the finger slicked with heating gel until pleading moans spilled from his lips.

“No talking,” Sherlock growled. “I don’t want to hear a single syllable from you.”

John thought he might come just from that but he held back as Sherlock stretched him with another finger, and then another until he was stuffed with three fingers and chewing his lips to keep from begging for Sherlock to touch his cock just once.

“Good,” Sherlock declared with satisfaction before tossing the bottle of lube aside. John felt it hit his left arm with an oily smear before landing but kept his covered head down. He wished he could see what was happening, but Sherlock had his own terms and he needed to obey them. He was a unique person and if this is what he needed to trust John and begin their relationship, then so be it.

That was the thought in his mind when he felt Sherlock’s thick cock breech his arse, his hole stretching to accommodate him even with all the preparation. John arched and bore down, spreading his legs to accept Sherlock gratefully.

He heard Sherlock murmur something, and John strained to listen through the sack. But the other man was too quiet, not yet ready to open up to him.

With every thrust of Sherlock’s cock, more moans and whispers spilled forth from his lips, building in intensity, but John was lost in the mindless fucking he was receiving. His neglected cock bobbed and ached while his arse accepted the pummeling.

The fucking reached a fevered peak and John thought he might come untouched when he finally deciphered the words being muttered as Sherlock reached his climax, roaring as he came:

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, mol…Molly, Molly Molly!”

His arse still filling with come, John ripped the sack from his head in disbelief. Light flooded his eyes; Sherlock must’ve turned on the lamp while he was blinded, he realized then. Scrambling away from him and toward the headboard, John turned around and sat on his sore arse.

“What the _fuck,_ Sherlock?”

Eyes wide with innocence, Sherlock shrugged. “Ah…slip of the tongue.”

Shaking with anger, John glanced down at himself…before glaring back up at Sherlock in shock.

“FUZZY KITTEN JUMPER?!”

Sherlock nonchalantly jumped off the bed and stepped into his trousers. “Oh, yeah. That’s a bit harder to explain.”

John took in the scene- the lube, jumper, the sack, Sherlock awkwardly staring out the window and _his own arse_ dripping with come- and realized:

“Sherlock Holmes, did you put a fucking sack on my head and make me wear a kitten jumper so you could FUCK me and pretend I was Molly Hooper?”

Sherlock scratched at his naked chest. “Well it sounds sordid when you put it that way.” He wrinkled his nose and turned to the door. “Smells terrible in here. Can you tidy up? Sex makes me hungry.” He headed into the kitchen and grabbed a handful of biscuits.

“What the…Sherlock, why would you do this?” John didn’t know if he wasn’t going to cry or punch him. He dragged on his trousers and chased after. “Why not ask her out- not use me, you prick?”

“Tom,” Sherlock spat. “Worthless copy of me. Not giving her what she wants, that’s for certain. I’ve checked with his past girlfriends. He’s vanilla and only engages in vaginal intercourse.”

Feeling like he’d lost the thread of things, John ran his hands through his hair. “So?”

_“So?”_ Sherlock dropped into his chair and threw his hands up in the air. “Molly loves anal. I was a bit out of practice. Thanks for that.” He gobbled down a biscuit. “ _Tom._ We’ll see how long that lasts when she and I have a talk.” He looked up. “And by talk, I mean sex.”

“You’re a complete psychopath.”

“Sociopath et cetera et cetera,” Sherlock retorted. “Maybe you should try to sort things out with Mary. You two were really brilliant together.”

“Fuck off.”

“Text you if a case comes up.” Sherlock waved as John ran for the door.

* * *

 

“Mary.” John knocked again. His forehead rested against the door, in exhaustion. “Mary, it’s me.”

After the third non-response, John decided to use his key. He’d been trying to respect her privacy, with them splitting up but he was desperate to get into the flat for a shower. And maybe they could sort things out. Things had been pretty good between them before Sherlock interfered.

He let himself in quietly, and peeked in Lizzie’s room.

Her little form was curled up in her crib, sleeping soundly.

Ah, she’s napping which means Mary is probably napping too, John thought. That explains it. Mommies needed to nap when babies did.

He slipped off his coat and looked down, realizing he still had the fucking kitten jumper on.

Stifling swearing, he shuffled through the kitchen. He heard Mary laughing now that he was closer to her- their- bedroom. He didn’t want to scare the hell out of her and get shot, so he called out her name softly as he opened the door.

“Mary! Mary, I need to stay here tonight. We can talk after I’ve had a shower-“ He frowned, not seeing Mary in her TV nook as he expected, laughing at a program. Instead, a movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He spun around.

“Oh _come on.”_

“You need to call before you show up, John; you don’t live here anymore,” Mary explained from where she lay between her girlfriend’s thighs. Her face still glistened with juices. She made no effort to wipe them from her chin and cheeks as she impatiently pointed John back toward the kitchen.

“Honestly, Johnny, ya really need to knock,” Janine said with a laugh. She grabbed her robe from the floor and donned it before heading for the loo. On the way, she kissed Mary lightly. “Enjoy yer chat, love.”

“I guess she forgave you.” John sighed.

“I’m persuasive.” Mary’s sly grin said it all. “How did things go with Sherlock?”

“They um…went.” John hesitated. “Turns out he’s got a thing for Molly Hooper…who has a thing for anal, apparently.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that. The first bit. Not the second. Didn’t need to know that, but thanks.” Mary steered him through the kitchen back toward the front door.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“About Molly?” Mary tapped her chin. “Well let’s see.” She opened the door and pushed John out into the hall.

“Because _I didn’t want to_. You left me when I was pregnant for six months, and then left me again for your best friend. You’re a self-centered arsehole. And honestly, John, you're not that attractive. Now that I’m not in love with you, I don't know what the fuss is about. I’ll email you about visits with Lizzie. Bye!” Mary slammed the door.

John stood in the hallway, wearing the kitten jumper and with his arse still trickling lube, and decided that being Sherlock Holmes’ best friend, the day could’ve ended a lot worse.


End file.
